


Love Story

by justbygrace



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Romeo and Juliet AU with Ten/Rose without the dying. A modern day adaption.<br/>A relatively angst-free prompt story that I wanted to make multi-chapter.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan

The dull thud of solid objects hitting the wall caused Ian Noble to look up from his laptop and he sighed. All he wanted was a calm and peaceful summer. He was home from university for two months and he had only returned because his sister was likely to send out a search party if he hadn't. The last thing he needed was the proper folks at uni meeting any members of the sprawling Noble clan.

"Jack," he began in his most conciliatory tone. "What are you doing?"

His cousin didn't look up from his spot on the porch floor. "If you aim right, you can totally get one of these balls to ricochet off the corner of the table, hit the table, and rebound."

Ian stared at him for a moment. “It almost sounds like you're paying attention in your night classes."

"Ha!" Jack tossed the ball and watched it do precisely what he'd predicted. "You know I'm only going because my PO is making sure of it. That stuff didn't make any sense to me when we were in school and it still doesn't."

Ian snorted and tried to return his attention to the laptop and the list of bones he was supposed to be memorizing. However, the breeze was pleasant, and the ball Jack was bouncing was constantly going off course and smacking him, and a whole passel of Noble cousins kept walking by and inquiring after his health, and eventually Ian gave it up as a bad job. There would be time enough to study later. 

"Any plans for the summer now that you're back in the old stomping grounds?" Jack asked when Ian finally snapped his laptop shut and tipped his chair against the brick wall. "I bet there are a few old flames who'd love to hear you're in town. Oh, speaking of, Reinette sends her regards."

Ian rolled his eyes. His teenaged indiscretions with a woman who'd turned out to be a high-end call girl had not ended well.

"Nah, just staying out of trouble. I don't need people from uni hearing that I got thrown in jail or anything." He forced himself to chuckle along with Jack's laughter, but he wasn't joking. The dalliance with Reinette wasn't the only youthful moment he'd just as soon forget and he had no desire to repeat any of it.

"Well, in that case I'm guessing you don't want to hang out with Caan's Cult?" Jack dropped the ball and picked up a pack of smokes. "He's been asking after you."

"You tell him I'm not interested in anything he..." Ian broke off mid-sentence, his gaze arrested by a woman walking down the opposite side of the street. "Who is that?"

"Hmm?" Jack craned his head to see around the railing. "Oh, that's Astrid Peth. She's a Tyler cousin. Don't you remember her?"

"Little Astrid?" Ian looked between Jack and the woman with a shocked expression. "She was wearing a Barbie shirt last time I saw her!"

"Well, she kind of still is, if you know what I mean." Jack smirked appreciatively. 

Ian stared at the blonde woman with interest. She was definitely not the ten-year-old girl who was all knees and elbows that he remembered. But then again it wasn't like he would have had the chance to observe her growing up.

The feud between the Tylers and the Nobles had been going on for longer than any living person could recall. Rumors of how it began were as varied as the accusations that flew between the two families. Some claimed it was when Great-Great Grandma Tyler refused to marry Great-Great Grandpa Noble, others swore that the Tyler's bookshop had nearly put the Noble's corner store out of business, others declared it was because the road paving crew had left the Noble's sidewalk a good meter shorter than the Tyler's sidewalk. But whatever the original reason was, the fact remained that the two families utterly despised one another.

It didn't help that they lived on parallel blocks, sharing one strip of road between the two of them. The number of fights that had sprung up on that patch of asphalt was astounding. The first fight Ian had gotten into in grade school was with little Adam Mitchell, a cousin somehow or other, because Adam had dared to insult a Noble cousin. Truth was that Cousin Donna could have held her own, but Adam was a Tyler and Ian was a Noble and that's just how things were.

"Man, it's a shame to waste such a beautiful bit of skirt on a Tyler, you know?" Jack said wistfully and Ian rolled his eyes.

"Tylers are allowed to be beautiful. I'm pretty sure there's no law against it. I think it's a bigger shame that I can't go talk to her just because of who we're related to." Ian dropped his chair back on four legs and reached forward to snag a smoke off of Jack.

"Watch yourself! If Aunt Sylvia hears you, you're going to be disowned for a week! Remember when she did that to Martha? She missed the annual barbecue." Jack shook his head, handing over the lighter and casting a wary glance around for Aunt Sylvia.

"Did you know we are the only family to do this? I mean, besides crazy people out in the country with only their goats for company, literally no one refuses to talk to their neighbors and holds out feuds for hundreds of years. It's absolutely mental, it really is." Ian took a long drag on his cigarette and looked towards where Astrid had disappeared into one of the houses across the street. 

"I saw a documentary about two families in America that did this. The Hatfields and McCoys. It raged for years and people died! And if we aren't any better than America, well..." he trailed off with an ominous glare at Jack.

"Hey, don't look at me!" Jack threw up his hands and narrowly missed swiping his nose with the burning end of his cigarette. "I didn't come up with it. I just like Aunt Sylvia's chocolate cake."

Ian didn't respond, choosing to smoke in dignified silence. He wasn't proposing that they invite the Tyler's over for a block party, but after a year in university with people who didn't disown people because they talked to the neighbors, well, the feud was sounding really stupid.

"Listen, if you want to talk to her so badly, why don't you go to the costume party?" Jack asked, stubbing his cigarette out and flicking it over the railing.

"What costume party?" Ian raised an eyebrow.

"You know, the one the Tylers have every year?" At Ian's continued look of confusion, Jack let out a heartfelt sigh. "Man, you're gone for a year and it's like you've forgotten everything! Every June the Tylers have this big costume party to celebrate the end of the school year or some nonsense, I don't know why. Anyway, it's happening tomorrow night." 

"A costume party?" Ian repeated. It was a bad idea, it was a terrible idea, it was probably the worst idea he'd ever heard and he'd once painted his entire repertoire of curse words on the headmaster's door when he was seven (and again when he was seventeen).

"Yeah, dress up like one of your nerdy heroes and go to the party. There'll be so many people there no one will notice your scrawny ass and then you can hook up with Astrid and get it out of your system." Jack waved his hand expansively. "I'll even give up the location for the best place to get in a quick shag."

Ian narrowed his eyes at his cousin. "You say this like you've done it before."

"Maybe once or twice," Jack shrugged. "The point is that it can be done if you're subtle." He gave Ian a doubtful look. "I don't know if you can be subtle so that part might not work out so well."

"I can be subtle! I'm practically the King of Subtle. I can do subtle in my sleep!" Ian protested.

Jack snorted. "Says the guy who went to Senior Prom dressed like the Grim Reaper.”

"It was a statement. I was making a statement about how fleeting life is and how nothing is forever." Ian jabbed his cigarette against the brick wall.

"Whatever, man. I'm just saying you're going to the Dark Side and you're trying to seduce one of their own, it's not the time for one of your speeches about human nature." He held up his hand to forestall Ian's arguments. "Or to get into a discussion about which superhero is the best or which of Steven Hawking's theories you can disprove."

"I get it, be boring and blend in." Ian crossed his arms. "I'm still the same guy who crashed that wedding with you."

Jack chuckled. "I forgot about that. Someone was just asking me about my greatest hits and I didn't remember that. That definitely goes on the list."

He stood up and moved so he was leaning against the railing, facing Ian. "If you're really going to do this, you've got to get a really good costume, you've got to zero in on Astrid immediately, get a few good lines in, and get her out. You can't stick around and socialize. You're turning into a giant and the Tylers are pretty short."

"I can do it and I don't like your implication that I can't. I went to university, not finishing school!" Ian exclaimed. "And if your Shag Shed is still the police box next to the playground, I'm the one who showed it to you."

"Okay, okay, I get it. You're still the Doctor of Deception!" Jack shook his head and laughed. "I look forward to seeing you back in action."

"As for a costume, I've got the perfect idea." Ian stood up and moved towards the door. "Come on, I picked up this awesome costume at a shop this winter."

As he led the way up the stairs, he spared a thought to whether or not he knew what he was getting into. He and Jack had spent years running these streets and the idea of one last good prank, and one that involved messing with the Tyler/Noble feud made his blood sing. There would be time enough to have a quiet summer later, right now he had a costume to plan.


	2. The Party

As Ian made his way down the street (he'd taken a roundabout route) towards the Tyler's residence, he tried to fight off the sinking feeling that this was a very stupid idea. He considered heading back home and spending the evening in more valuable pursuits (reviewing his class notes from the previous year and getting a jump on studying for his upcoming classes), but he was not at all interested in listening to Jack crow about how he was a coward. 

He wasn't a coward. Not at all. He just wasn't entirely sure if his costume was good enough to hide the fact that he was a Noble - direct descendant of Great-Great Grandpa Noble too. He'd found the bits and pieces of his costume at various shops; he'd been working on assembling it for years. It was based off his favorite Time Traveling Alien, an eclectic collection that had made Jack roll on the floor with tears in his eyes. 

It started with basic tweed pants and a white button down. He'd added a paisley necktie and a yellow sweater with question marks all over it (it had been the hardest part of the entire thing to track down). His jacket was a off-white linen affair that was just a tad too big, and his shoes were two-toned brogues in brown and cream. A wide-brimmed hat with a paisley band, a handkerchief in his pocket, a fob watch draped across the middle, and an umbrella with a handle in the shape of a question mark completed the ensemble. 

Jack told him he looked silly, but Ian thought he looked dashing and, more importantly, unrecognizable. The hat kept his sticky-up hair under control and he rather thought the costume was just over the top enough to keep attention off his face - the strong Noble genes had not bypassed him. Jack had assured him that he would be along later, but it was best they didn't go together (he'd also refused to let Ian preview his costume, which Ian thought was a bit unfair). 

The sight of the Tyler house looming up before him almost made him turn tail and run. He'd seen the house a hundred, a thousand times in the past, but it was different this time. This time he was actually supposed to go inside. He paused mid-step, trying to work up his nerve to even go up on the porch, but before he could the front door was flung open and a girl came bursting out into the night.

"Fuck all those fuckers." The force of the expletives made Ian rock backwards on his heels.

In the glow of the porch light, he could see that she was not yet a woman and not quite still a girl, caught somewhere in between stages in life just like he was. Her blonde hair was obviously dyed, from a box just like every other girl's around here, and her mascara-tinged eyes seemed to glow golden in the half light. She was dressed in a skin tight leather outfit with lots of belts and gadgets (he wasn't sure of the origination, but was definitely excited to find out more about it), and, as she leaned over the railing, he definitely admired the figure she cut. 

She noticed him almost immediately and gave him a strange look. "You coming here, Doctor?" 

The fact that she recognized his character warmed him from the inside out and he grinned at her, the manic, crazy grin that always signaled trouble. 

"Well, I was planning on heading up to Henriks, but if there's a better offer..." he let his sentence trail off.

"Henriks seems a bit stodgy for you." She gave him an appraising look, eyes traveling from the tips of his shoes to the top of his hat before settling on his face. "I can't promise the best company - most of this lot are wankers - but I can promise free alcohol and nibbles, which is a lot more than you'll get from Henriks."

"Nibbles! I love nibbles! Do you have those little crackers with the paste and the garnish, I always forget what they're called. They are the best, truly très bon." He kissed his fingers to her. "Oh, or that stuffed peanut butter and jam? I just had them a few weeks ago and I was hooked. Ate nearly a whole tray before they ran out; they almost threw me out after them." He stopped, abruptly remembering that he was supposed to be playing a part.

She looked amused or, at least, a smile was playing at the corners of her lips like she wanted to give in to her mirth, but wasn't sure if he would be okay with it. "I can't promise any peanut butter and jam, but I slaved over sausage rolls all afternoon and we have an abundance of crisps and dip because mum was preparing for an army."

"I also love sausage rolls," he said, barely refraining from repeating the joke that Jack surely would have told.

"Come on then, Doctor." She took a step towards the front door and looked over her shoulder at him.

He paused for a half-second, still debating over the plan, but then she smiled and he caught sight of her tongue between her teeth and he was climbing the steps to the front porch before he gave his body permission to move.

"Don't worry," she said when he was level with her, "I don't bite." She waited a pause and then smirked. "Unless you're into that."

Leaving him gaping on the porch, she pulled open the front door and disappeared into the house. It took him a moment to recollect himself and then he was following her inside, hardly remembering that he was entering the lion's den. 

The house was a mass of lights and people and noise, and Ian was halfway across the living room before his eyes had fully adjusted. He recognized a few of the people he passed - Mickey Smith and Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones - but none of them seemed to show any surprise the few times that they looked at him and he tried to relax his breathing. He'd done so many costumed events with Jack as a teen (most of which had had the potential of being illegal) and the art of blending in was beginning to come back to him.

He scanned the crowd for the girl (woman) from the porch, but he spotted Astrid first. In the rush of endorphins from his porch conversation, he'd completely forgotten that he had actually come here to meet her. She was leaning next to the punch bowl chatting with a bloke that Ian vaguely remembered from his days in the schoolyard, but couldn't recall his name. Astrid was dressed in a maid's outfit and, until ten minutes ago, would have looked dead sexy.

Before he could figure out his plan for finding the woman he really wanted to talk to, she appeared at his elbow, a tray of sausage rolls in her hand. 

"Would you like to try one?" There was an odd mix of emotions on her face, a shyness about her eyes, but a glint of steel that suggested she wasn't someone to mess with.

Ian grabbed two and popped them both in his mouth, groaning as the tastes hit his palate. He'd been so stressed about this event he'd forgone lunch, and he was suddenly starving. Swiping two more, he tried to smile without opening his mouth.

She rolled her eyes at him, but didn't appear grossed out by his eating habits. 

"Do they starve people where you come from?" she teased him, reaching out to wrap her hand around his wrist, measuring the width of his appendage. 

He was suddenly very glad for his mouthful of food, he could just attempt another smile and not have to talk through the jolt of electricity that went through him at the feel of her hand on his skin. 

"Did you get a drink yet?" she asked, releasing his wrist and allowing him to breathe.

Ian shook his head, still unable to talk around a new mouthful of the sausage rolls, and she nodded, turning on her heel and leading the way through the crowd. He followed after her, avoiding eye contact with the other guests and focusing only on her leather-clad arse. Their destination was apparently the kitchen, for when they reached it she shut the door behind them.

The room was empty save for them and they both took a deep breath at the same time and then chuckled. She pulled open the refrigerator door and peered inside.

"Alright, Doctor, wine or beer? Or would you prefer something mixed?" she asked him, without turning.

"Um, whatever? I like beer the least. Too wheaty, you know? J...they say I'm crazy, but I swear I can taste the individual grains. Wine is good, but it should be paired with things, you know. Red with meats or Italian. White with dessert or fish." He licked his lips at the thought. "But a good mixed drink, there you can't go wrong. Well, you can. I had a whiskey mixed with Grape Fanta once and let me tell you, that was wrong, definitely wrong." 

She had shut the fridge door and was staring at him with the same bemused expression as earlier. "So, you do have a preference then?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess I do at that."

"Alright then." She turned back to the fridge and started pulling out various juices and bottles of liquor. "It just so happens I make excellent mixed drinks, so you're in luck."

Ian set his umbrella down and hopped up on the counter without thinking about it, his attention fully devoted to the woman across from him. "Were you a bartender in a past life?"

"And sometimes in the current one," she told him, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet.

"Really? How old are you?" He bit his lip as soon as the question left his mouth. He'd avoided asking her name and she seemed happy to call him Doctor. He wasn't certain if it was deliberate on her part, but he knew he was terrified of breaking the illusion of peace that existed between them with personal details.

"Old enough to do that," she said, tossing him a grin complete with a hint of her tongue that had him gripping the edges of the counter.

"Fair enough," he conceded, relieved that she seemed just as hesitant to delve deep. "So, what are you dressed as?"

She spun around, planting her hands on her hips, and giving him a scandalized look. "You don't recognize the iconic superheroine? The one that is teaching girls everywhere they can go out and do great things and kick arse and take names and not have to sit at home and eat beans on toast and watch telly? You don't recognize this highly trained Agent who has been to hell and back and lived to tell about it?"

"Um, no?" he admitted sheepishly.

"You don't recognize Natasha Romanoff? The Black Widow herself?" She shook her head at him. "I am disappointed in you, Doctor."

"I am disappointed in myself, especially after hearing the good she is doing the world." Ian raised a hand to run it through his hair and sighed when his fingers felt the hat. "I admit I don't spend much time learning about superheros. Or superheroines."

"Oh you should." She turned back to her assortment of bottles. "They are wonderful. Marvel is my favorite. Seriously, I can't believe someone as obviously nerdy as you isn't balls deep in the MCR, but DC has its positive points."

"Nerdy?" he gasped. "I'm not ner..." He broke off when she shot him a look over her shoulder, her raised eyebrows evidence of her opinion on that subject. "Okay, maybe a little."

"You're cosplaying as the Doctor!" she snorted. "And not just any version of him - that one!"

He sat up straight. "Hey now! This one's not so bad. Had some grand adventures, plus he has a hat and an umbrella. Those are brilliant."

"At least you didn't choose the one with celery," she shot back.

"You know, you're sounding quite a bit like a nerd," he pointed out.

"Never claimed not to be one." She turned around, carrying two glasses of amber liquid. "Your drink, Doctor."

"If you call me Doctor, what should I call you? Widow?" he asked, accepting the glass from her and admiring the way it almost matched the color of her eyes.

She paused, tilting her head, and biting her thumbnail. "You can call me Bad Wolf."

It was his turn to consider, there was something familiar about that moniker, but he couldn't place it. "Is that one of the Black Widow's aliases?"

"Nah, it's something I came up with myself." She gestured at his glass. "Are you going to at least taste your drink? I promise I didn't poison it."

He laughed, but obediently lifted the glass to his mouth and drank. It was better than he had expected, smooth and warm, going all the way down with a bite that stayed with him once he had swallowed. 

"Wow, that's really good!" he exclaimed, enjoying the rich feeling it invoked in him. 

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to sound so surprised. I do know what I'm doing."

"I'll say." He took another drink, closing his eyes as the various tastes exploded over his tongue.

"Do you want to know what's in it? Or would you rather..." 

Whatever she had been about to say was lost because at that moment the kitchen door banged open and a group of guys walked in. It was immediately obvious that they were very drunk, laughing and talking much too loudly for the small space. At first, they seemed oblivious to the fact that the kitchen was already occupied, but then one of them turned around and spotted them.

He was young, with a perpetually innocent expression, and he was dressed like a science experiment gone wrong, but Ian would have known him anywhere. It was Adam Mitchell, his nemesis from long ago, and it took Adam exactly .05 seconds to recognize Ian. 

"What on earth is that twat doing here, Rose?" Adam spat, his gaze hard and angry.

Rose. Ian took a split second to relish in her name, before it clicked. Rose Tyler. Rose bloody Tyler. The only daughter of Pete and Jackie, and the pride and joy of the entire Tyler clan. Of course that would be the one person in the crowd that he would have had to meet and chat with. He was in deep trouble.

"Adam," Rose began in a gentle voice, but he cut her off.

"No. I don't want to hear your excuses or reasons. I am done listening to your arguments. The fact is that he is a Noble and not only a Noble, he is practically heir to the throne," Adam spluttered.

"There's not actually a throne given that we no longer live in feudal times, you know that right?" Ian interjected, congratulating himself when Rose chuckled.

Adam rounded on him, his eyes sparking, and Ian leaned backwards a little. "There's no room for your smart comments here. You can prance around out there all high and mighty like you own everything, but you're in my house now."

"Not actually your house," Rose said.

"And I don't prance." Ian shook his head at Adam.

"Enough!" Adam yelled. "Get your bloody arse off the bloody counter and face me like a real man."

"A real man? What's a real man, exactly?" Ian asked, but he slid off the counter anyway. He wasn't interested in a fight, but the way Adam was looking at him, not to mention the group of guys clustered behind him, he might not have much of a choice. "Seems like we're both real men. At least, I am, last time I checked."

There was a chorus of "ooohs" from the guys and Ian silently thanked Jack for his years of influence. Standing on level ground, Ian was still a good head taller than Adam, but there was a dark look in the other's eyes that Ian didn't like. Glancing at the other guys, Ian tried to search for a friendly face, but there were none to be found. Most appeared to be Tyler cousins all dressed as various superheros or film characters; one or two wore masks and Ian couldn't identify their family of origin, though there was something familiar about one dressed as Indiana Jones. 

"I can't believe you would dare to show your face in this house. Your kind is dirty and disrespectful and has no place among your betters," Adam growled, taking a step towards Ian.

"I've been called a lot of things in my time - attractive, handsome, conniving, frustrating, adorable, amazing, but I have not yet been called dirty. Also, really we are all equal." Ian waved a hand to encompass the whole room. "I've sat in on an autopsy or two this past semester and let me tell you, underneath we look about the same. Blood and intestines and bone and muscle and..."

Adam shoved his chest, hard, and Ian shut his mouth abruptly. Apparently this wasn't a scenario he was going to be able to talk his way out of. Before he could make up his mind about how he was going to get out of it, Adam shoved him again, causing him to rock back on his heels.

"Stop it, Adam," Rose exclaimed. "You're drunk and not thinking clearly. Leave Ian alone."

Ian started to smile at her taking his side against her cousin and then her use of his given name registered. She knew who he was and, given the way she was avoiding his gaze, probably had since the moment she spotted him on the sidewalk. He wondered what her motivation had been in striking up a conversation, but he didn't have time to think too much about it because Adam was rolling his eyes and taking another step closer to him.

"Listen here you little shitwad. I've put up with you for long enough and I'm sick of it. You have no business here and you know that. Now defend yourself!" He reached out and smacked the center of Ian's chest.

"What is going on in here?!" The booming voice echoed through the kitchen, causing every one of its occupants to jump.

Turning towards the doorway, Ian was dismayed to see Pete Tyler - current patriarch of the Tyler clan - standing there, arms folded across his chest and eyes flashing fire.

"Somebody better start talking." Pete took a step into the room and both Ian and Adam took a step backwards.

"This piece of trash is walking about here talking to Rose like he belongs," someone spoke up from the back and Ian rolled his eyes at the sight of Jake Simmonds, a boy who liked to believe he was a badass, but hardly did anything worse than not paying the occasional parking ticket.

Pete didn't reply, instead walking towards Ian and Adam, his eyes telling them they'd better not retreat. When he was standing between them, he glared at them both.

"I won't have fighting in my house, you hear me? I don't care who started it and I don't much care to know why you," he gave Ian a hard look, "are here. But it ends now. Adam, I won't have you chasing after him, you look like you'd be better off sleeping it off. And Ian, get yourself off my property before I call the police."

Ian nodded and with a stuttered "Yes, sir, of course, sir, right away, sir," he set his glass on the counter, made a grab for his umbrella, and fled for the door.

No one tried to stop him on the way through the living room, though he felt the force of their glares burning into him. He didn't slow until he reached his side of the street and he didn't stop until he collapsed on his own front porch. He lay flat on his back on the porch, breathing hard and unable to believe his evening.

It took him several moments to start laughing, but once he started he couldn't stop. He'd done it, actually sneaked into a Tyler party, flirted with Rose Tyler, almost gotten into a fight, and been kicked out. It was definitely a night for the books. Jack couldn't even make fun of him for running away. 

Speaking of which... Ian sat upright, and stared back across the street. The face of Indiana Jones, even with the bandanna obscuring most of it, came back to him, and if that had really been Jack, he was going to have to kill him. 

Ian pushed himself to his feet and took one last look at Pete and Jackie Tyler's house. It looked so unassuming from this angle, but if he squinted, he could just make believe that he saw Rose's blonde head at the window. He knew it was his imagination, but it made him feel better. Turning away, he made his way into the house, bypassing the living room and the awkward questions he didn't want to answer from his aunt and uncle, and headed for his room. He had some emotions to bury in studying.

He was almost asleep with his head in his copy of Gray's Anatomy, when his phone buzzed. Forcing his eyes open, he pulled it out and unlocked it. It was a text from an unknown number.

_Doctor, sorry about tonight. BW_

He smiled as he tried to think about how to reply. Perhaps there was some light in this tunnel after all.


	3. The Decision

Ian lay on his back in the middle of his backyard and stared up at the sky. It was a peaceful late afternoon sky, a blue with streaks of dark that suggested there were adventures at hand. If he concentrated solely on it, he could almost fool himself into thinking that everything was fine. 

His phone buzzed on his chest and he ignored it. He knew it was Rose, texting him something brilliant or flirty or just plain friendly and he wanted to read it, but he wanted to see her more, and it was that which was making him ignore his phone. 

It had been almost two weeks since the party and he hadn't yet seen Rose, though they texted nearly constantly. He'd tried to see her and she had tried to see him, but there wasn't a member of either the Tyler or the Noble family that wasn't aware that Ian Noble and Rose Tyler were interested in one another and everyone from tiny Tony Tyler clear to his Aunt Sarah Jane had gotten in the way (actually Uncle Wilf had been surprisingly chill about the whole thing, going so far as to offer his hilltop alien lookout as a meeting place - but then Rose had been waylaid by a last minute shopping trip). Their families were also behind the reason they didn't just pick up the phone and call each other; neither them had had five minutes of privacy.

Jack had been inappropriately exultant over the events of the party and had admitted he'd been the Indiana Jones (he'd even stood there and let Ian punch him in the nose over the fact that he hadn't intervened). Jack was sympathetic to the cause, after all he'd been shagging Ianto Jones at every possible opportunity since the boys were fifteen, and had no room to talk, but his love for the family (and Aunt Sylvia's chocolate cake) ran too deep for him to do much to interfere. 

Even Donna, his intrepid cousin whose parents had taken him in after his parents had been killed, was leery of crossing the family. She glared when Ian called her a coward and wouldn't talk to him until he'd apologized, but admitted she wasn't willing to rock the boat. The only person in whom he found an understanding friend was Martha Jones. 

Apparently she had a crush on Mickey Smith - a Tyler cousin - and the two had been sneaking around and seeing each other for years. Ian had been shocked when she told him, he didn't think he was as oblivious as all that, but Martha had patted his shoulder and told him it was quite okay. She offered to share her secret rendezvous points, but Ian declined; he didn't want to get her into trouble. Martha proved to be a good shoulder to cry on (or, at least, to shed a few manly tears on), and always listened to his rantings with a great deal of compassion. But even she wasn't willing to shake things up by bringing her relationship with Mickey into the light. She'd accepted long ago that if she wanted to keep seeing Mickey, it was going to have to remain a secret.

Ian was not quite so willing to accept this. He found it rather unfair that he couldn't see Rose, and his tolerance for the family's feud was getting less with each day. Rose seemed to share his sentiments, but neither of them had yet gained the courage to flout the regulations. He sighed and grabbed his phone, unlocking it, and smiling at the picture of her Yorkie she'd sent him. Her little brother Tony had thought it would be funny to call it Rose and the name had stuck. 

With a heartfelt groan, Ian heaved himself to his feet. As much as he enjoyed lying in the grass and feeling sorry for himself, there wasn't much point to it. Besides he was getting grass stains all over his trousers. He wasn't interested in listening to a lecture from Aunt Sylvia (with some well-timed words about how disappointed his parents and Uncle Geoffrey would be - he wasn't actually sure if they would be disappointed, but the accident that took the three of them was too fresh to argue about yet) and so he turned his footsteps towards the street. 

He didn't have a destination in mind, just somewhere that wasn't the closed quarters of this neighborhood. Part of him wished he could pack up and go back to Uni early - he'd met some really great people and he was pretty sure they'd take him in if he showed up with the right sob story, but the thought of Rose checked his plans. He wasn't willing to abandon her to the jackals, even if he couldn't quite figure out how not to do so.

The cool wind that signaled approaching dusk was a balm to his tortured thoughts and by the time the sun had sunk behind the western horizon, he was feeling more at ease. He still didn't have a plan, but he was more determined than ever to see Rose. Hordes of family didn't worry him at the moment and, feeling taller than the London Eye, he climbed over the fence that surrounded the Tyler-Smith's backyard. 

Using the various shrubbery, he wound his way through until he came to Pete and Jackie's yard. He might have been feeling daring and determined, but he wasn't a complete fool and had no desire to be caught and escorted out, or worse, have the police called. It was only once he was standing between Tony's swingset and Jackie's herb garden that he realized he didn't actually have any idea as to what to do next.

Before he could either turn tail and run or march up to the door and demand to see Rose, the sound of loud voices had him flinging himself flat on the ground in panic. He could clearly make out Jackie's strident tones and Pete's bass, but he couldn't hear exact words. Not giving himself time to second-guess his plan, he army crawled towards the house, stopping once he was flat against the brick wall and under the open windows. Holding his breath, he listened as hard as he could.

"...studying to be a Doctor, my arse." It was Jackie and he could almost hear the roll of her eyes. "He's a good-for-nothing wanker just like the rest of those Nobles."

"I don't care if he is studying to be the President of the Entire World," Pete exclaimed. "He is a Noble, a Noble! And I won't have any daughter of mine lower herself to their level."

"You guys don't even know him!" Rose's voice brought Ian's head up. "He is a good person. Smart and funny and interesting, and if you gave him half a chance, you could see that for yourself."

"I'm not interested in seeing him any closer than I have to," Jackie said. "Don't you remember when he pulled the fire alarm for a week straight right at testing time?"

"Or when he punched Adam when you all were kids? Or when he built that robot dog that sat in the middle of the street and howled?" Pete asked.

"Of course I do!" Rose replied. "And most of what he's done was funny and all of it was a long time ago! He's grown up since then."

"Grown up enough to sneak into parties where he isn't welcome," Pete said with a sarcastic edge.

"He didn't sneak in, I let him in," Rose explained.

There was the sound of glass shattering and a muttered apology from Pete.

"I can't believe you would do that," Jackie said, and it almost sounded like she was starting to cry. "We've raised you better than that."

"Better than talking to the neighbors? Better than being friendly to people who haven't done anything to us?" Rose's voice was rising with fervor. "If that's all you've taught me to do, then I can't think that you've done a particularly good job of it. I love him and you can't take that away from me."

There was the distinct noise of footsteps and before Ian registered that they were heading in his direction, the back door slammed open and light spilled out into the yard. Ian ducked his head down and tried to stay perfectly still. He attempted to think of a story that would explain why he was lying pressed against the side of the Tyler's house, but his brain wasn’t cooperating.

Thankfully only Rose exited the house, racing across the lawn, and letting the door bang shut behind her. She paused at the the base of the giant maple tree that sat in the center of the yard. By just twisting his head, he could watch her scale a ladder he hadn't noticed and disappear into an old treehouse that sat in the branches.

Ian continued to stay where he was until he was certain that Pete and Jackie weren't going to follow her. Eventually he could tell by the shuffling noises and stilted comments that they thought it would be best if they waited for her to come back inside, and only then did he crawl across the lawn to the tree. Once there he paused, unsure of how he was going to signal his presence to Rose without scaring her.

Remembering his phone, he retrieved it from his pocket and ignored the six new texts from Jack and the missed phone call from Aunt Sylvia, quickly tapping in a "by the way, I'm right below your current location" text to Rose and then waiting. It didn't take more than thirty seconds for him to hear her phone chirp and a low laugh to sound from above before her face appeared over the edge of the platform.

"Come on up then, Doctor."

With a last glance over his shoulder at the house (and its thankfully empty windows), Ian hastily climbed the ladder and hoisted himself into the treehouse. It was a well-built affair, plenty big enough for them both, and, more importantly, it had no windows, only a partially exposed roof gave them any light.

"Hi," he breathed, sinking down on the floor next to her.

"Hello," she smiled at him.

For a moment they simply sat and stared at one another. There was an air of embarrassment since they hadn't seen each other face-to-face since before Adam had so rudely interrupted them, but mostly it was good to just be together. 

She broke the silence first. "Not that I'm not glad that you’re here, but why are you here?"

"I was heading out for a walk and just happened to be passing through," Ian said with a grin.

"Really, Doctor, how come now?" She shook her head at him.

He sobered. "Because I am tired of the universe trying to keep us apart. It's not fair and I don't like it. We deserve better - you deserve better."

"If you're here to break up with me before we've really gotten together..." Rose began, eyeing him warily. 

"No, no," he hastened to reassure her. "I just really wanted to see you and I was out taking a walk and it seemed like it was time. Plus, I got here without running into any of our relations so I figure the universe approves."

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled at him. "I'm glad she does."

He grinned at her, unsure of how to broach the subject of her argument with her parents. 

"Just how long had you been in my backyard?" she asked, and there was a suggestion about her eyes that said she knew the answer.

"A while. Well, I say a while, but really, time is relative, very hard to estimate an exact measurement of time. What can seem like a few seconds to one person can feel like an eternity to another so it's hard to nail it down exactly. I mean, did you know there is a few seconds of difference between even cell phones of the same carrier? Technically there is no way to know what the actual real time is! And anyway, time is just a social construct, made up to keep us on our ergumph." His flow of words was cut off by the press of her hand to his mouth.

"You ramble when you're nervous, did you know that?" Rose said with a slight smile. At his nod, she continued without removing her hand from his lips. "It's okay. I know you heard part of, if not all of, that argument. And I meant what I said."

She finally dropped her hand and he automatically licked his lips, delighting in the faint taste of apple that suggested her lotion or soap or something else that was definitely Rose Tyler. She was staring at him like she was expecting an answer, but the faint tingle from the press of her skin and her closeness was wreaking havoc with his thoughts and he couldn't collect them enough to say anything remotely intelligent.

"I assume you, I mean, I would like to assume that you, I mean..." she stumbled to a halt and looked away, the tips of her ears going red in the light of the moon.

"Assume that I feel the same way?" he asked. "About you? That you feel about me?"

She nodded without looking at him, and he smiled a private smile.

"Then you're quite right, too," he said cheekily.

Rose turned back with a roll of her eyes. "Master of comedy, you are."

"I mean it though. I know I'm not very good at expressing myself. Jack always says I talk a lot but don't ever say anything at all, but I do mean it, just so you know." It was his turn to look away and turn red.

She tugged at the hand that was rubbing the back of his neck until she could lace their fingers together. "Me too."

They sat and grinned at each other like loons, and this time it was him that broke the silence.

"Donna says I'm too young to know (she thinks she's absolutely ancient sometimes instead of six months older than me), and Martha says it's better to feel that way in silence but," he moved his gaze to the side of the treehouse, focusing on a knot in the wood, "I think they are wrong."

"We're in this together, Doctor." Rose waited until he reluctantly looked back at her. "Better with two, right?"

"Right," he confirmed. "But I still don't know what to do about it."

"Typical guy," she teased. At his outraged "Oi!" she just grinned and went on, "What if we...I don't know, it's going to seem silly."

"No, it won't."

"It might."

"I don't think you're silly and I'd never say your ideas were silly."

"Not even if they are?"

"Well, maybe then." Ian squeezed her hand. "Tell me, Rose. I promise I won't make fun of you."

"Whatifwegotmarried?" she said in a rush.

"I'm sorry, what?" He shook his head, trying to decipher meaning to her words.

Rose took a deep breath. "What if we got married? I mean, we're both old enough to not need our parents' permission." 

He returned his gaze to the knot. It wasn't a bad idea, in fact, it might be a very good idea. A bit rushed and maybe a tad foolhardy, but he could totally see the merit. It wasn't until she started trying to disentangle their fingers that he realized he had waited too long to answer her. 

"No, no, no, Rose," he said, refusing to let go of her hand. "I think it's brilliant. Sorry, I was just thinking. I do that too much. I think almost as much as a talk. Sometimes I talk without thinking and that gets me into some trouble because I speak a bunch of gibberish that I haven't thought through and then I..."

He was cut off by her lips colliding with his. He gave a squeak of surprise, but soon gave himself over to the delightful pastime known as kissing Rose Tyler. It was a bit messy and their teeth clacked and their noses bumped, but her fingers were running through his hair and his hands had landed on her hips and it was the most brilliantly fantastic thing he'd ever been involved in.

The whine that escaped him when she pulled back was involuntary and he tried to follow her, but she laughed, one of her hands moving from his hair to the center of his chest and holding him in place. Words were a thing of the past for him and he could only sit there gaping at her like a dying fish.

"I figured that would be a good way to get you to stop talking," she said with a smirk. 

Ian could only nod, his eyes fixed on her beautiful face and her slightly swollen lips, and he knew his hair was a wreck and he was breathing hard, but it was because of her and he couldn't bring himself to care.

"So, getting married?" Rose prompted him when it became apparent he hadn't yet regained the ability to speak.

"Yes. Marriage. Brilliant. Molto bene," he nodded.

"Alright then. Any ideas on how or by whom? Just about everyone in this town knows us both," she said, smoothing her hands down his arm before lacing their fingers together again.

Ian paused. He did actually have an idea of who, but he wasn't sure if it would work. He told her as much, enjoying the way her eyes lit up. 

"Let me talk to him and I'll get back to you?" he finished.

"Sounds good. And after that, if our families still don't like us, well, then maybe we can travel. They won't be able to stop us once we're married," Rose suggested.

"I don't see why not. I have money saved and my university is in Spain. Barcelona, to be exact. I think you'd fit right in in Barcelona. There's this cafe, Dogs With No Noses. It sounds silly, I know, but it is really marvelous and I know you'd love it." He smiled at the thought of Rose meeting his uni friends. "Plus, no one there hates people based on what their ancestors did."

She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Now that sounds brilliant."

"I promise, Rose, we will find a way to do this," he assured her.

"Together," she murmured.

He dropped a kiss on her golden hair, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his. There would be time to figure out details later, right now he was pretty content right in this spot.


	4. The Fight

Ian was whistling as he made his way home from Wilf's house on Saturday afternoon. It had been a little over a week since his conversation with Rose in her treehouse. She had ended up falling asleep leaning on his chest and had only woken up when it was well past midnight. The goodnight kiss she had given him had almost caused them both to spend the rest of the night right there. 

He had gone to see Wilf the next day, telling the old man the whole story. Wilf's opinion on the Tyler/Noble feud was a general eyeroll and a few choice comments, and he had been quite understanding of Ian's predicament. He was also a registered army chaplain and was qualified to marry people. Wilf had demanded to speak to Rose first, determined to figure out if she was up to par for his beloved great-nephew. He had fallen in love with Rose just as quickly as Ian and had readily agreed to perform the marriage.

The last few days had been a scramble of producing passports, finding a ring that wouldn't drain his bank account, and dodging the hordes of suspicious Tyler and Noble relatives. But that afternoon it had really happened. Standing packed in Wilf's little alien observation shed with Mickey and Martha who had been sworn to an uneasy silence, Ian and Rose had exchanged vows (a simple "How long are you going to stay with me?" and "Forever" that satisfied their elderly chaplain) and signed on the dotted line. And now Rose Tyler was officially - in the eyes of God and Queen and Country - Rose Noble.

After Mickey and Martha had vanished down the hill, repeatedly promising that of course they wouldn't give up the secret, Ian and Rose had sealed their union with a kiss that went on long enough for Wilf to clear his throat and threaten them with a bottle of water to cool their ardor. They smirked at his words, but obediently broke apart to grin at each other and at Wilf. He made them promise to be safe and not to expect everyone to accept them immediately, it took time for these sorts of things, and they needed to give it time, but the young couple was much too happy to pay him any attention.

Now Rose was headed to her house to pack and Ian was headed to his house to do the same, and then they had plans to break the news to their own families and then leave for the train station. At the moment, Ian was at peace with the world.

He was nearly back to the house when his young cousin Jethro came running down the street towards him, practically bursting with some sort of news.

It took Ian a few moments to calm the boy enough to understand him, but eventually it became clear that Adam had challenged Ian to a fight. Since Ian wasn't there, Jack had accepted in his stead and the two men (and a whole host of relatives) had plans to meet at the park at five for the fight.

Ian looked at his watch, horror filling him when he realized it was several minutes past five. There was no way he was going to make it there in time to prevent the fight, but he had to try. Clapping Jethro on the shoulder, he took off running towards the park. He knew where they would be - there was a spot behind the old playground that was just sheltered enough from the road to make it the perfect place to have a fistfight without anyone calling the police.

As he ran, Ian cursed Jack and Adam and everyone who perpetuated the feud up to and including the great-great grandparents who had started the whole thing. He couldn't believe there were adults who thought that teaching their children to hate another group of people was a good thing to do. He knew Jack could usually hold his own in a streetfight, but only with back-up and if he had agreed to a one-on-one, it was because he was intoxicated. And a drunk Jack was not a good fighter. Adam had been a sissy back in the day, but rumor was that he had taken some mixed martial arts classes and was a pretty good fighter now.

The thought put an extra burst of speed to his steps and Ian skidded to a halt in the park in record time. His mouth dropped open as he took in the scene before him. There was a good portion of Tyler and Noble cousins gathered, mostly the ones in their early twenties, though a few younger teens and a few older folks were mixed in the crowd. They were arranged in an imperfect square and Ian pushed his way through to see just how bad it was.

It was bad. Though it had taken Ian less than four minutes to arrive, Adam had Jack flat on his back and was straddling him, punching his face. Blood was running down Jack's face and his left arm lay at an odd angle that made Ian's stomach turn. There were cries of outrage from the Noble side and shouts of encouragement from the Tyler side, but absolutely no one was stopping the beating. 

Ian didn't even pause, launching himself through the air at Adam. He hit him hard and the two men rolled into the dirt together. It took Adam a few seconds to realize what had happened and it was enough time for Ian to gain the upper hand. His rage at the feud and what it had cost him and Rose and Martha and Mickey and countless other members of both families, not to mention his anger at what Adam had done to Jack, made Ian see red and he knew nothing except that he had to make someone pay. 

When he next recollected his surroundings, it was to the feeling of hands grasping him and pulling him backwards none too gently. He fought them off at first, but eventually he realized what had happened and he allowed himself to be moved. With wide eyes he took in the sight of Adam's prone body. The boy's face was a bloody mass, he was missing several teeth, both of his eyes were starting to turn black and blue, and blood was running from a deep cut in his forehead. There was also obvious evidence of handprints on Adam's throat and Ian was relieved to note that he was still breathing, albeit weakly.

Someone shoved Ian roughly towards the crowd of Noble relatives and he stumbled forward - only Donna's hand catching his arm slowed his progress. She shook him and then threw her arms around him, muttering about what an absolute idiot he was. He stood it for as long as he could before pulling backwards and checking on Adam and Jack.

He almost smiled at the sight of Owen and Jake glaring at each other, but still discussing what to do. It was obvious that whatever was going to happen, whatever way they were going to spin the story, had to be agreed upon by both families. At the same time, they caught sight of Ian watching them and shouted at Donna to get him out of there.

Ian protested at first, but Donna was firm and she dragged him away.

"It's better that you not be there. Owen'll tell us what the plan is and then we'll stick to the script. But right now you've got blood running down your face so we're going to take care of that."

She ushered him to the small bathroom at the side of the playground and shoved him inside, ignoring his irritation when she followed him in.

"You're in no position to be doing this on your own," she told him, unrolling a handful of toilet paper and wetting it under the tap. "So quit your whining and hold still."

Her words were harsh, but the way she cleaned the blood from his now-throbbing lip and nose was gentle. Every time he opened his mouth, she shushed him, and she kept her thoughts to herself until she threw the last bloody wad in the bin and pronounced him passable.

"Now you and I are going to walk and talk," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him outside.

"You saw what that monster was doing to Jack! And the rest of you were just standing there letting him do it!" Ian exclaimed, before catching sight of a young couple eyeing him nervously, and lowering his voice. "I didn't have a choice."

"Listen, Ian, you're my favorite cousin and you know that, but this summer you've been an absolute prat." She glared at him when he would have argued and went on, "I get that you fancy you're in love or whatever, but you're turning your back on your family."

"No, I'm not. Donna, I'm really not!" he pleaded for her to understand. "I would love to have my family on my side, but this feud is ridiculous and you can't stand there and tell me it isn't. I love Rose and she loves me and the fact that our families don't talk should hardly be reason to throw away my chance at happiness."

"I'm not trying to take away your chance at happiness. Nor am I defending the feud, really." Donna sighed. "I'm just, Ian, I don't want to lose you."

"You don't have to," he objected. "I don't want to lose you either - you've always been good to me and you’re my best friend - but my life is with Rose now and you have to be able to accept that."

Donna paused in the middle of the sidewalk and squinted at him. "What do you mean your life is with Rose now?"

"I mean," he took a deep breath, "I married Rose this afternoon. We're married now!"

She stared at him, her mouth dropping open in shock, and then she shook her head and stalked on in silence. He followed along, casting her anxious looks when she didn't say anything else.

"Donna, please don't be mad. It was the only thing we could think of and, well, it seemed like a good idea. It is a good idea because you can't separate us. They can't take Rose away, not really. Because she is an adult and so am I. Over twenty-one, you know. Legally an adult," he rambled.

"Did you know different countries have different ages of majority? That's what they call it, becoming an adult. Anyway, in Iran it's eight for females and fourteen for males, which is just creepy if you think about it. And Bolivia and Cuba is sixteen. And North Korea says seventeen. And one hundred and forty-two countries have eighteen as the age of majority, including us and the States, except the state of Mississippi which says twenty-one and I don't know how one state suddenly decides that, but America has always been just a bit weird." He forced himself to close his mouth, swallowing the rest of the words that were trying to cover the cold space between him and Donna.

They were on the sidewalk outside of their house when she stopped again, spinning around to face him with narrowed eyes. "Do you really love her?"

"Yes." He gulped at her expression.

"And does she really love you?"

He nodded.

"Who else knows?"

"Mickey and Martha because they were witnesses, but please don't get mad at them, Donna. And Uncle Wilf because he performed the ceremony." He took a step back and ducked his head in case she should want to slap him.

"And just when were you planning on telling the rest of us?" she demanded.

"Tonight?" he squeaked. At her expression he cleared his throat and tried again. "Tonight. Definitely tonight."

"Well, obviously you can't tell anyone until this blows over," Donna said, taking a step towards him. "And don't try to see her. And don't mention to my mother that you love her. And definitely don't mention that you think she loves you. In fact, don't say anything at all. Let me do the talking."

When he tried to complain, she glared at him until he mimed zipping his mouth shut and then she turned and led the way into the house.

The rest of the evening was pure torture for Ian. Aunt Sylvia was not quiet with her opinions on him fighting, or on Jack fighting, or on her hatred of the Tyler family in general. Various relatives were continuously stopping in for a bit of tea and gossip before heading back out, and Owen kept calling them with updates. Everyone alternated between glaring at him and demanding information from him, and all he wanted to do was to go to his room, lock the door, and crawl under the covers.

The only thing that kept him sane was the stream of texts from Rose. She didn't blame him for the fight, even when she heard that Adam was in the hospital with a broken nose, several missing teeth, and sixty-seven stitches. (Jack had a broken arm, a possible concussion, and a fractured nose.) She was cautiously optimistic about the grudging conversations between the two families as they discussed whether or not to press charges against the other, but Ian was determined not get his hopes up.


	5. The Agreement

Over the next few days, Ian's mood did not improve. Neither of the families showed any signs of forgiving him. Everywhere he went he had to endure mutters and lectures and glares, and it wasn't just because he had a hand in putting their sons in the hospital – though that was a big part of it. No one seemed to take much notice of the fact that the fight had been Adam’s idea and that Jack had accepted in Ian’s place – no, the blame was placed squarely in Ian’s lap.

Above and beyond all of that, though, somehow the news had spread through both families that Rose and Ian were more than a Thing now. Details differed – some people swore that Rose was pregnant, others said that Ian was going to abduct her and flee to the ends of the earth (not a bad plan in his mind) – and it didn't improve his status. Both families also seemed to blame Ian for this, and neither family appreciated his actions. Thankfully, it appeared as if Donna, Martha, and Mickey had – thus far – kept their mouths shut about the whole marriage thing.

Jack wasn’t at all mad about spending some time in the hospital. His head injury had proved to be less severe than had been anticipated and he was soon sitting up and cracking jokes, albeit very dirty and inappropriate ones. He considered the whole experience to be a great lark and kept swearing that he had gone down intentionally. Adam was, unsurprisingly, a great deal less okay with Ian. Jack rolled his eyes and told Ian that Adam was just pouting because he was going to have a giant scar on his forehead now.

Ian's only solace continued to come from Rose's texts, but he was less sure that running away together was the best option. It was obvious that he wasn't a good influence, and he was really better off on his own. He also had no real desire to return to university in the fall either. His summer had taught him that maybe devoting his life to helping people wasn’t for him. Currently, his plan was to take a year off to travel. He hadn't quite worked up the courage to let Rose in on this plan yet because he knew what her opinion would be. Instead he spent his free time (when he wasn't being harassed by some relative or other) planning exactly how he was going to break the news to her.

Ian waited only until he was certain that both Jack and Adam would make a complete recovery before packing up enough of his belongings as he could carry with him and texting Rose that he would meet her in the treehouse. His heart was heavy as he made his way over. He couldn't believe how quickly everything had gone to shit. How was it only a few weeks ago that he had high hopes for a stress free summer and now he'd gone and ruined everybody's single-handedly?

By the time he had snuck across the various backyards and was seated in the treehouse he had worked himself into a fine mood, and the only reason he was sitting and not pacing was because the roof wasn't high enough to give him the room. He rehearsed his planned speech over and over, but the second Rose's face appeared at the top of the ladder he forgot it all.

He hardly waited for her to get all the way inside before sweeping her into his arms, resting his head on her shoulder, and taking deep shuddering breaths. She guided them to the floor, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close so she could rub his back and whisper reassuring things into his ear. He couldn't make out her exact words, but her cadence was gentle and he could feel the tension slowly leaving his body.

"You're okay, Doctor, you're okay. It's not your fault," she was whispering when he was finally able to focus in on what she was saying.

He was suddenly irrationally angry and he sat up, nearly hitting her chin with his head. "Yes, it is! It is my fault and you know that."

Rose refused to break eye contact, crossing her arms, and raising her chin. "No, it isn't. Jack and Adam made their own choices. Of course you didn't have to defend Jack, but you did and, Doctor, that does not make you a bad person."

"I put two people in the hospital!" he exclaimed.

"You did not. Are you listening to me?" She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "They made their choices! You could have just as easily gone home instead of running to try to stop them. And, if what I've heard is correct, then the fight should have been stopped long before you got there, by people who really should know better. If you want to blame someone so badly, blame our great-great grandparents."

"Oh, I do!" he assured her, and then caught sight of the twinkle in her eye. His shoulders slumped as he recognized the humor in his declaration. "It's just so stupid, Rose, the whole feud is."

"I know it is." She smoothed the hair off his forehead. "But we didn't start it. We can do our best to stop it, but if we fail, Doctor, if we fail, we can't blame ourselves. I won't let you blame yourself.

He snorted, but leaned over to kiss her cheek. Before he could gather his courage to tell her that he was planning to leave on his own, another thought occurred to him.

"Why do you always call me, Doctor?"

She shifted her gaze to the wall and the ceiling before looking back at him. "It just suits you, is all."

He had the sense that she wasn't quite telling the whole truth, but he wasn't sure how to get her to tell him the rest. "Better than Ian?"

"Yeah, a bit. You are planning to be a Doctor and you were dressed as the Doctor and anyway..." her voice trailed off.

"I don't call you Bad Wolf," he started and then stopped, the edges of a memory suddenly teasing him. He could faintly remember the feel of the sun and the smell of tar and something else?

"Do you really not remember?" she asked, still avoiding his gaze.

"No. Maybe. Yes?" He racked his brain for the rest of his memory. "Tell me?"

She studied him for a moment before letting out a sigh. "We were five. Well, you were five, I was still four, something you kept reminding me of. We were playing in the street because we didn't know we weren't supposed to be friends. You told me about your imaginary world that you were sculpting in the wet tar and I got it on my dress. I had just read the story of Little Red Riding Hood and I was mad at you for getting me dirty and wouldn't tell you my name so I told you to call me Bad Wolf.

"You agreed and called me that for the rest of...well, it seemed like the afternoon, but it was probably less than that. Your, um, your mum found us playing together and she brought us cookies and sat us on the sidewalk and told us about the feud." Rose nibbled on her thumbnail before continuing. "She explained that though it wasn't our fault, it was the way things were. She was very nice to me, tried to scrub the tar out of my dress, and even hugged me when I cried because I knew my mum would be upset.

"We both were upset, but she promised us that if we still wanted to be friends when we were older that no one could stop us. You hugged me goodbye and kissed my cheek and your mum gave me a handful of cookies to take home. I never forgot." Her voice cracked and Ian held out his arms, pulling her close to let her wipe her few spare tears into his shirt.

"I'm so sorry that I forgot. Now that you tell me, I remember more. I guess with everything that happened with my parents, well, I've forgotten a lot of things that I did with them or that they said to me." He pressed his lips to her hair. "I think my mum would have approved of us though, Rose, my Bad Wolf."

They sat in silence for a long moment before Rose took a deep breath and sat up, focusing her gaze on his face. "What did you come over to tell me anyway?"

"Oh, erm, it was, it was nothing really." Ian looked back at his favorite knot in the wood. After her story and being with her, he could no longer recollect his brilliant reasons for wanting to be by himself.

"You came over to tell me you would be better off on your own, didn't you?" Rose shook her head at him. "Don't even deny it – I can see it in your eyes."

"You're right, I did," he conceded. "But I was wrong; it’s better with two."

"It is better with two, but do you really believe that?" she asked him.

"I, I want to believe that. And being with you, it makes it easier to believe," he said, running his thumb along the underside of her wrist. "I can't promise to never feel like I should be on my ow. Or that I would be protecting you by making you stay with your family."

She nodded, seeming to come to some sort of internal conclusion. "I made my choice, Doctor. And I promised you forever. Didn't you make that same promise?" She waited for his agreement before continuing. "And I intend to keep that promise. And next time you forget, I'll be there to remind you."

He leaned forward to kiss her, words failing him in the face of her loyalty. He didn't deserve her and if he lived to be nine hundred, he was never going to deserve having her in his life. But he sure as hell was going to try.

Rose allowed the kiss to deepen, caressing his tongue with her own, before pulling back. He sighed at the loss, but forced himself not to chase after her. She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the little velvet box he had given her only a few days before. Popping it open, she lifted out the ring and handed it to him before extending her left hand.

With shaking hands he slipped it on her finger before lifting her hand and kissing the ring.

"I love you, Doctor," she whispered. "Now, don't you dare try to leave without me or send me away."

"I love you too, Rose Tyler-Noble, my precious Bad Wolf. I promise that I will do my very best to keep you with me." It was the most he could promise and she nodded, accepting his words.

"Now, plans," she sat up straight and regarded him. "What are they?"

"Erm?" He shrugged. "Leave tomorrow? Or wait awhile? I don't really know, what do you want to do?"

Rose smiled. "I think I'd like to leave as soon as possible. We can go anywhere, right?"

"Anywhere you want," he confirmed.

"Then that's what I'd like to do. But I'd also like to leave a letter for both families, explaining everything. Maybe get Wilf in on it?" She raised her eyebrows.

He nodded. "Mickey and Martha might even be willing to speak for us. And Jack too," he added as an afterthought.

"Okay. Let me just pop to the house and grab some paper." She stood and moved towards the ladder. "Don't go anywhere?"

"I won't," he promised.

She gave a decisive nod and climbed down the ladder. Ian slid down the wall until he was stretched the length of the treehouse, his toes firmly pressed against the wood on the opposite side. He had no plans to go anywhere that was far from Rose Tyler until she kicked him out and it almost seemed like she wanted to keep him around. He smiled as he twisted his neck to spy her blonde head disappearing inside the back door of her house - he had no idea how she managed him, but he was awfully glad she could.


	6. The Future

Ian stared out the window of the airplane, lost in thought, as the craft taxied up the runway. The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind, and he could hardly believe they'd actually done it. Rose had carefully crafted a letter to the family, informing them of the impromptu marriage and letting them know that they were leaving. He and Rose had stayed the night in the treehouse, wrapped in blankets and each other until just before dawn. 

His things had been packed and ready to go and it was easy for him to sneak his belongings out of the house and deliver the letter to Wilf. Rose had a more tricky time of it, but eventually they were crammed into the back of a bus heading for the airport. The airport had been a nightmare – buying a ticket for the first destination they had been able to afford (Paris, France), pretending they weren't expecting their families to come bursting through the door at any moment, waiting endlessly for the boarding call for their late flight – but they were taking off now and he was just starting to realize they'd actually done it.

He was so lost in his thoughts that by the time he realized Rose was trying to get his attention, she had already been after it for several moments. 

"Sorry." He pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

Rose smiled at him before picking up his hand and lacing their fingers together. He stared at their joined hands, wondering at the fact that the simple gesture meant so much to both of them.

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't having second thoughts," she said.

"Second thoughts? About uprooting you from your home and cutting off contact from your family and forcing you to move thousands of kilometers away?" he asked. "Why would I have second thoughts about that?"

"We've been over this. You didn't do any of that to me – I made my choice! Made it, well, it feels like I made it a long time ago. You're stuck with me now." She stared up at him, defiance written in every line of her face.

He cracked a smile, albeit a small one. "You might regret it though."

"And so might you! That's the chance we took." Rose shook her head. "No, Doctor, we're better together you and I."

He nodded, leaning over to kiss her, just because he could. And because she was right and he knew it, even if he had trouble admitting it out loud. And also because they were married and they were above the cloud cover and he could do things like that without anyone getting mad at him now.

"Do you think our families will be nicer to each other? After the fight and deciding not to press charges? And after they realize that we left?" she asked after a moment.

"Maybe," he answered. "But I wouldn't necessarily count on it. The feud is ages old and the bitterness goes deep. It will take a long time to uproot it all. Rome wasn't built in a day. In fact, it took approximately 1,009,491 days to build Rome, though that includes all of the destruction and rebuilding of it."

"But wouldn't it be nice?" she asked, ignoring his rabbit trail. "They read the letter and realize that there should be more love in the world? And they decide to stop arguing and be friends? I know it's silly, but it is nice to imagine."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It would be nice. But this isn't a storybook, Rose. No one event can change an entire mindset for good. Oh, it might help change the tide. I know Mickey and Martha will probably make their relationship public. And you know that Jack will make a move for Ianto (or maybe Gwen). But as for the rest of them, well, my aunt Sylvia isn't likely to go be friends with your aunt Harriet just because we ran off together. They might be even more irritated at us after this, actually."

"You're right, I know you're right. And as long as we are planting seeds, I suppose that's a good start. I do want Mickey and Martha to be happy. And Jack to be happy with...whoever. I just don't want our child to grow up hated by his family because he or she is a product of our union." She placed a protective hand on her stomach.

"What?" He sat upright, eyes darting between her face and her stomach. They hadn't actually gone that far - yet - but he couldn't help the tiny jolt of fear (and was that excitement?) that ran through his veins at her words.

She laughed. "Don't worry, Doctor, I'm not pregnant."

"Okay, okay." He sank backwards, still keeping an eye on her face. 

Rose rested her head on his shoulder. "Are you happy?"

"I've got you, love, I am happy," Ian said, his voice rising in fervor. "And as long as you're with me, I can face anything: family members, the assembled hoards of Genghis Khan, cat nuns, living plastic, animated pepperpots..."

His words were cut off by her lips meeting his, a new habit she was developing that he was quite okay with. 

"Do you think they'll stay mad at us?" she asked when she moved back.

"Maybe some of them and maybe for awhile, but not all of them and definitely not forever. At least at you. I don't think any of them could stay mad at you for long." 

"Oh you'd be surprised. When I was eight I accidentally flushed Astrid's favorite necklace down the toilet and backed up the plumbing for a week. I had a lot of people mad at me for a very long time over that one. I think Astrid's still bitter about that necklace." Rose chuckled at the memory.

"Well, running away with me is not so bad as all that then," he teased. "And we can go anywhere, you know. After Paris. We could go on a world tour, do all those things we've always been wanting to do, but haven't. Like sky-diving, ohhh Rose! We could go deep-sea diving! I want to go deep-sea diving. Or maybe hiking? Like the Alps? Wherever you want to go, just say the word."

She laughed, shifting positions so she was snuggled into his chest. "I love you, Doctor."

"Love you too, Rose Tyler-Noble," he whispered.

Their night curled up on wooden boards -not to mention their hectic day - didn't take long to catch up with Rose and her breathing soon evened out. Ian couldn't force himself to relax as easily and he returned to staring out the window, mulling things over in his mind.

By the time the plane touched down in Paris, Rose was awake and they had finished filling out their customs forms. Customs itself was a pain, and finding a cab when neither of them spoke more than a few words of French, and finding a relatively cheap hotel was frustrating, but eventually they were alone in their room.

It was the first time they had really been alone in a situation that involved an actual bed and there was a tension to the air. Rose fiddled with her toiletries, arranging them and rearranging them, while Ian tried to figure out how to get the remote to work. He thought that perhaps a bit of telly (even if neither of them could really understand it) might help them to relax.

He was only slightly startled when Rose walked up behind him while he was trying to determine which of the thirty-eight buttons was supposed to be the power (since the big red one had failed) and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips to the back of his neck, while her left hand smoothed its way down the front of his shirt. 

Ian turned in her embrace, capturing her lips and kissing her deeply. It was their honeymoon, after all, and he desperately wanted this beautiful woman in his arms. His wandering hands traveled between her hair, her bum, and her back, pulling her even closer to him. She was not a passive partner either, her hands were just as eager to touch him.

Their clothing was gradually divested, lips and tongues forging blazing paths across the newly revealed skin. He wasn't a blushing virgin and neither was she, but being here in this moment together caused more than a few bumped noses, trembling hands, and "whoops, sorry for stepping on your foot." 

He was in awe of the power of her mouth, taking him in and sucking, licking, and teasing him to a shuddering mess. In return he worshiped her, taking his time to feast of her juices, until he had proved several times how much she meant to him. And when at last she was prepared to allow him entrance, they paused, eyes full of all of the emotions they couldn't say. And when she sank down on him, it was a bit like coming home. 

Afterwards, when they were sated and sweaty and she was curled with her head on his chest, he stared at her, marveling that she was willing to be there with him. His mouth must have betrayed him because she lifted her head to look at his face.

"I will always be here with you, Doctor." 

"What if..."

She laid her fingers over his mouth, silencing his words. 

"There will always be a what if, there will always be a possibility of, there will always be problems, but I don't want to dwell on them and I don't want you to either, as much as you can help it. Just be here, with me, in this moment, yeah? We'll deal with tomorrow when it comes."

"Yeah." He kissed her forehead. "I can do that."

They lay in silence for a bit longer, but he couldn't help breaking it.

"Speaking of tomorrow...."

"It'll be here and we can deal with it then, Doctor," she murmured. "Now hush, I'm trying to sleep."

He chuckled, tightening his grip on her shoulders. There would be tomorrow and he was excited for whatever it would bring, but he really was content here with her. She was his Rose and he was her Doctor and things were as they should be.


End file.
